For As Long As We Both Shall Live
by thegutterflower
Summary: When an evil shedemon is after Constantine, can his marriage survive? Sequel to An Unexpected Occurence. ConstantineOC
1. Chapter 1

Mary woke up slowly, groggily raising her head up from the pillow. A strange sound was coming from the kitchen, a sound that closely resembled…sizzling?

_What the hell?_ she thought. She crawled out of the bed, absently throwing on her disguarded shirt from the night before, and padded into the kitchen. There she was met with one of the funniest sights she had ever encountered.

John Constantine, her husband, was _cooking_.

Mary rested a hand against her mouth, trying to stifle the loud giggles that were threatening to spill out. Constantine, his back turned towards her, was frying what smelt like bacon in one pan and poking at something with a wooden spoon in the other pan. All this, plus the fact that he was shirtless and how he kept scratching the back of his head in a rather dumbfounding way, was quite a hilarious sight, indeed.

Constantine turned suddenly, wooden spoon still in hand. His handsome features softened when they rested on Mary.

"Morning," he said pleasantly. Mary smiled.

"Good morning," she responded while walking closer to him. Giving him a quick kiss, she peered behind him.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked curiously.

"Making you breakfast," Constantine said proudly. He raised an eyebrow. "Did you already forget what day it is?" Mary thought for a moment, then, realizing what he meant, she blushed.

"John," she gushed, throwing her arms around his neck. Constantine grinned.

"Happy birthday, Mary," he said warmly, kissing her. He pulled away and held out a chair for her. "Have a seat."

Mary sat down, grinning up at Constantine. _I can't believe he did this for me, _she thought_. He's so thoughtful and sweet and kind…_

"Oh my God," Mary cried. She had just taken a bite from the breakfast Constantine had made her. "This is incredible! I didn't know you could cook!"

Constantine sat in the chair next to her, shrugging. "What?" he asked smugly. "I can't have layers?" Mary only giggled, taking another bite of her breakfast as he watched her.

"Father Isaac called when you were asleep," he said as she finished the last bite.

"Oh?" she said, wiping her mouth. "Everything alright?"

"Don't know," Constantine answered. "He just said he needed to talk to me."

"Is Garret going with you?" Mary asked.

Garret Webster was Constantine's self proclaimed apprentice. One day, the kid just started following him around, offering rides and help with the everyday exorcisms and blessings that Constantine performed. At first, Constantine had been annoyed, but, with Mary's urgings, had reluctantly taken the young boy under his wing.

"Yeah," Constantine said. "He'll be here soon."

"Soon?" Mary repeated with a smile. She raised her eyebrows suggestively. Constantine's stomach clenched as he felt the familiar straining in his pants.

"Ten minutes," he said, his voice an octave lower than normal.

"Plenty of time," she said, already struggling out of her long t-shirt. Constantine began working at his pants.

Wretched pants out of the way, Mary sat on his lap, her legs dangling on each side, as they kissed. It wasn't like the gentle, loving kisses they were used to sharing; it was harsh, almost as if one was trying to suck the soul out of the other.

Constantine lifted Mary so her breasts her at his eye level. He pressed her warm, naked body against his own as he suckled. Mary raked her fingers through his hair, moaning loudly when she felt his two of his fingers slip inside of her. He arched them to hit her soft spot.

"Oh," she breathed softly, resting her cheek against the top of Constantine's head. She sighed when he switched to lavish attention to her other breast, and then she cried aloud when his thumb rubbed against her throbbing clit. She unknowingly began moving her hips in tune with Constantine's thrusting fingers.

Deciding that enough was enough, Constantine withdrew his fingers. Mary's whimpered protest quickly turned into a throaty groan when Constantine's engorged erection filled her in their place.

_Nothing can compare to _this, she thought hazily as she braced herself on her husband's shoulders, pushing up and then slamming back down on him again.

"Fuck," Constantine moaned, holding her against him. He angled his hips, desperately trying to sink further into her. Each time Mary rose above him, he grabbed her waist and brought her down harder onto his lap.

"John," Mary cried as she climaxed. She arched her back, her long, unruly hair brushing against Constantine's knees. Her breasts were thrust out, simply _begging_ to be touched, which Constantine did. He rubbed Mary's nipple, still somewhat thrusting into her as her inner muscles danced all around him, bringing him to his own release.

"Fuck," he moaned for the second time. He leaned back helplessly against the chair, waiting for Mary to come back to herself.

She straightened her back, smiling at Constantine, and gently kissed his closed mouth.

"Happy birthday," he said, holding her against him.

"So far the best birthday I've ever had," Mary replied honestly. She hugged him, relishing the feel of his naked body against hers, the feel of him still buried deep inside her.

Constantine smiled gently, weaving his fingers into her hair as he kissed her forehead. Mary sighed.

"I love you, John," she said, squeezing him.

"I love you more," he said automatically. Mary reached up to kiss him again, but a knock on the door ruined the moment.

"Damn," Constantine said regretfully. "Garret." Mary nodded sympathetically, kissing his cheek as she disengaged herself from him. Both groaned softly at the lack of contact.

"Later," he whispered a promise.

"Later," she echoed. Smiling once more, she began looking for her shirt. Constantine watched for a moment before he unwillingly pulled up his pants. Making sure Mary was somewhat clothed, he opened the door, revealing a very cheery Garret.

"Morning!" he said, pushing past Constantine into the kitchen. He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He handed them to Mary.

"Happy birthday!" he said grinning. Mary smiled back.

"Thank you, Garret," she said graciously. She bent down to smell them. "Hmm, roses."

"I didn't know what kind to get," Garret admitted. "But every girl likes roses, right? So I figured I couldn't go wrong there."

Mary smiled again, watching Constantine button his shirt out of the corner of her eye. "Well, _this_ girl certainly likes them. Thank you, again. They're lovely."

Garret smiled proudly. He turned to Constantine. "So what's the plan for today, boss?"

Constantine rolled his eyes at the nickname "boss", but let it pass. "Father Isaac wants to see me. We'll see when we get there." He began tying his tie.

Mary walked over to him. "Let me," she said, taking hold of the loose tie. She tied it quickly, leaving it a bit slackened, the way Constantine liked it.

"Promise me you'll be careful?" she asked. Constantine's eyes softened.

"Have I ever led you to believe that I wasn't careful?" he said. Mary's eyes narrowed.

"Should I answer that, or just glare?"

Constantine chuckled. He kissed her lightly. "Alright, I promise."

"I'll take good care of him, Mary," Garret put in.

"Thanks, Garret," she said. "It's good to know that he has you watching his back." She turned back to her husband.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, "and we'll have another celebration."

"I'm counting on it," Mary said softly, the tone of her voice implying what she couldn't say aloud. Constantine's eyes darkened.

"I'll be back soon," he repeated. He kissed Mary. "Happy birthday, sweetheart." He pulled away, motioning for Garret to follow.

"Bye Mary!" Garret called as he shut the door behind them. Mary waved brightly, sighing once the door had been slammed.

_Please be careful, John,_ she thought.

(0)

Author's Note: So, how is it? Is there anything imparticular anyone would like to see? If so, let me know.

Until next time...

PLEASE REVIEW


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Constantine entered Father Isaac's he knew something was wrong. The air smelt funny, and it was, as the cliché states, too quiet. The hair on the back of Constantine's head stood up, his arms tingling. Something was definitely off.

"What's wrong?" Garret whispered after Constantine had put out a hand, preventing his young apprentice from stepping further into the humble priest's abode.

Constantine sniffed. "I don't know. Stay here." Garret huffed, but nevertheless obeyed, watching as his mentor crept into the dark house.

He walked slowly, the high pitched squeaking of his shoes the only sound to be heard. When he came to Father Isaac's kitchen, he stopped.

"Great," he muttered, his eyes cast firmly on the sight before him.

Father Isaac was lying on the floor like a forgotten rag doll, limbs thrown out at different angles. His reading glasses, still perched on his nose, were cracked, and his mouth was open. Poor Father Isaac's whole face was frozen in a look of intense fear.

The worst part of it all was the apparent way he had been killed. A large kitchen knife protruded from the center of his chest, blood still seeping out of the wound. Constantine rubbed his eyes.

_Not again,_ he thought. He dropped his hand from his face and studied the body, looking for a clue.

"You bastard," Constantine said, squatting next to Father Isaac's corpse. "You should have left something for me to find."

"Jesus, John, what's taking so long?" a voice said behind him. "_Oh my God_!"

"Didn't I tell you to stay outside?" Constantine asked dryly, still studying the body.

"John," Garret said, pointing Father Isaac. "That's a dead body."

"Yes, very good," Constantine muttered absently. He sighed. "There's nothing in here. I'm going to find his study." He stalked away, leaving Garret alone.

"Man," Garret sighed. "I'm _always_ left with the dead guy."

Constantine walked slowly through the hallway, stopping when he reached the doorway to Father Isaac's study. Satisfied that nothing, or rather no one, was in there, he stepped through the open door, and began shuffling through papers left on the desk.

"There's nothing," he muttered with narrowed eyes. Just as he was about to turn away, something caught his eye. It was a piece of paper, hidden in the stack, and on it, was a single word: Jezebel.

Frowning, Constantine folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He walked back to the kitchen slowly, trying to remember if he knew anything connected to the name.

Drawing a blank, he sighed. "Come on, Garret," he said. "Let's go."

Garret was all too happy to go. "Where we going?" he asked, pulling out his car keys.

"Midnite's."

(0)

"John," said Midnite formerly. Constantine waved his hand absently, pulling up a chair and sitting on it.

"How's the wife?" he asked.

"Fine," Constantine answered, a look of suspicion on his face.

"I hear it's her birthday."

"It is," he conformed. "Amazing how fast news travels."

Midnite shrugged. "I have many informants, as you know. I am still a bit hurt I was not even invited to the wedding."

"What can I say?" Constantine said dryly. "It was a spur of the moment thing."

Midnite smiled. "Yes, of course. Here," he said, taking something out of a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a cross pendant on a thin, silver chain. He handed it to John.

"Think of this as a belated wedding present," he said. Constantine grabbed it, studying it in the palm of his hand.

It was old, very old, with a white diamond in the center. Smaller diamonds were encrusted on the limbs of the cross. It seemed to emit heat from where it laid on his palm. Constantine could feel its power already.

"Hmm," he said, taking his eyes off the cross. "Nice, but I don't think it's my style. What is it, silver?"

"White gold," Midnite corrected, "And it's not for you, it's for your wife. I believe her name is Mary?"

Constantine nodded shortly. He pocketed the cross. "I just found Father Isaac murdered in his kitchen. Something stabbed him in the chest."

Midnite sighed. "John—"

"I know," he cut him off. "The Balance. I don't care. Something's wrong, I can feel it."

"I offer nothing."

Constantine gritted his teeth. "Jesus, Midnite…"

"You know where I stand, John," he interrupted. "And _still_ you come to me. _I offer nothing_."

Constantine stood up. "Fine," he said annoyed. Without so much as another word, he stalked off, leaving Midnite alone.

_He will be the death of me_, he thought.

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter isn't very long, and a bit lackluster, but some stuff has happened in my personal life and I couldn't find time to write much more. Never fear, though, I shall return with more chapters in a few days or so. I've gotten a total of 4 hours of sleep in the last two days and I just found out I have to write an essay for my English class, plus a ton of math homework. And I might get a job in a few weeks working at a movie theatre. But don't worry, all my free time will be devoted to writing.

Trinity-Neo1818- Yeah, I agree with the whole "how could Constantine and Mary fall in love so quickly" thing, but with everything else going on in the plot, I felt it just had to be done that way. As for Raphael, I don't know if I'll be including him in this story, since I pretty much have the whole basic plot figured out, but you never know! Same goes for Mary having some big secret. Anyway, thanks a lot for your review, and if you have anymore ideas or anything, feel free to give 'em to me!

Until next time…

PLEASE REVIEW


	3. Author's Note

Author's Note: Sorry to those of you who read my story, I have some bad news. A lot has been going on in my life, and most of it is pretty bad. My parents are going through this horrendous divorce, and the man my mother assures me is my father is kicking us out of our house. So now we (my mom, my brother, and I) are living with my aunt and her family.

Yeah. It really sucks, especially since they don't have internet connection AND my cell phone doesn't work inside their house.

Needless to say, it might be a while before I can post anything. I am trying, though. For those who are interested I've already started working on later chapters for this story, the problem is that I don't know when I'll be able to post. I'll try as soon as I can.

Sorry, again, but I really have no control over what my asshole father does.

Until next time…


	4. Chapter 3

Mary opened her eyes. She was laying on the bed, naked, and sprawled on her back, a position that she never slept in. _Oh_, she thought, blushing in the darkness. _Now_ she remembered why.

Constantine had come home a few hours before, earlier than Mary had anticipated. "Oh, hi, John," she had said, smiling at him warmly. She was at the stove, cooking…something, she couldn't remember what, but she what she did remember was how Constantine had simply strode up to her, turned the stove off, grabbed her, and kissed her with as much gusto as he could manage.

Needless to say, it was a lot.

It had all progressed from there. Clothes were thrown off, load moans and groans were could be heard from an open window neither had thought to close, and when they were finished, they simply repeated the process.

Mary bit her lip, her cheeks burning from the memory of all Constantine had done to her. She reached out her hand to touch him, but was met with cold bed sheets. Listening closely, she heard noises coming from the kitchen.

She swung her legs of the bed, flinching at the unexpected soreness emitting from her inner most parts. _Well_, she thought, _he was _very_ enthusiastic._ She smiled. _Hmmm, what a birthday._

Mary found Constantine's wrinkled shirt lying on the floor and put it on, buttoning the small buttons as she walked, or rather limped, into the kitchen. There she found her husband, sitting at the table in his boxers, reading a large, dusty book.

"Hey," she said softly, causing his head to snap up.

"Hey," Constantine responded, watching her come closer to him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, running her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, loving her fingertips against his skull.

"Just researching something," he admitted, pulling her into his lap.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah," Constantine said. "There's just something bothering me about Isaac's death. I don't know what, but I think it may have something to do with Jezebel, or a jezebel. I don't know."

"Jezebel?" Mary repeated. He nodded.

"Father Isaac wrote that name down before he died. It might have something to do with his murder."

Mary bit her lip and rubbed his head comfortingly. "Well, have you found anything?"

"Maybe," Constantine said, his eyes closed. "There's something in here about a demon named Jezebel. It doesn't say much, though, just the usual. Can bring forth death, destruction, et cetera."

"You'll figure it out," Mary said, comfortingly. "You always do."

"Yeah," he said absently, running his hand up through her shirt, caressing her back. Mary shivered.

"I'll figure it out later," he said huskily. His hand crept to her chest. Mary gasped when his warm hand closed over her breast. Constantine used his other hand to unbutton her shirt and, when it was tossed to the side, forgotten, he rested his forehead in the valley between her breasts.

"I love you," he said quietly. Mary's heart melted. She knew that as of late her husband had been stressed out. He tried to hide it from her, but after being married for over a year, she knew him fairly well, and it warmed her heart knowing that he tried to protect her as much as possible, even though she wished he wouldn't.

"I love you," Mary said, her mouth against his hair, "more than I can ever say." Constantine raised his head, smiling at her with that sweet smile of his that he saved only for her. He pressed his lips against her own as he stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He took her to the bedroom, and things went on from there…

(0)

Constantine sipped from his drink, idly gazing at faces as he sat at the bar of a local club. His eyes roamed the crowd, his mind drifting, while he waited. It wasn't long before Caleb showed up.

"John," Caleb greeted. Constantine gulped his drink.

"Caleb," he said neutrally. He looked the angel up and down. "Bit dressed up, are we?"

Caleb shrugged, idly brushing off his black suit, a sharp contrast to his bright features. "You're not the only human I talk to, John," he said. "I have plans."

"Yeah," Constantine said uninterestingly. "So, talk, I'm listening."

"Fair enough," he reasoned. "I trust you know of Father Isaac's death?" Constantine nodded. "I'm afraid it might have been a demon that killed him, and not just any demon, mind you. Her name is—"

"Jezebel," Constantine finished for him. He smirked at Caleb's slightly shocked expression.

"Very good, John," Caleb praised. "I can't say that I'm impressed; I've always known you had a great amount of potential, but I'm surprised you used your skills to find her already."

"Her name was written down on a piece of paper at Isaac's house," Constantine explained. "Don't get your hopes up, Caleb; I'm still the same."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "I beg to differ, John. With Mary, you've changed a great deal." He smiled brightly. "You just don't realize it."

Constantine rolled his eyes, annoyed. "My wife," he reminded, his teeth clenched, "stays out of my work. Understood?"

The angel smirked. "Alright," he humored. "Let me see, where was I?"

"Jezebel."

"Ah, yes, Jezebel," Caleb said, his cheery mood drastically changing to a more serious one, "is quite frightening. She is evil, John, pure evil. Not much else in known of her other than that."

"She have a fling with good ol' Satan or something?" he asked lightly.

"This is not to be taken lightly," Caleb reminded.

"So what the hell does she want?" Constantine asked.

His bright face frowned. "That I am unaware of, John, but I do believe it won't be pretty. I feel there is a great darkness about to fall upon you, and I fear you may not find a way out of it."

"I'll be fine," Constantine said tensely. "Now, if you have nothing else to tell me, I'll be on my way." He threw a few bills on the counter and turned to leave.

"If not for yourself," Caleb cried out to Constantine's turned back. "Be careful for Mary's sake." Constantine paused momentarily before continuing on his way. Caleb sighed.

"I fear for you, John," he said to no one in particular.

Outside, Constantine leaned against the bar's outside wall, breathing deeply. _In and out_, he told himself. _In and out, repeat process. _His hands fumbled in his pockets until he found what he was looking for, a pack of gum. He slipped a piece in his mouth, sighing wearily as he chewed, and took something else out of his pocket. It was the necklace Midnite had given him; the antique-looking cross intended for Mary.

Constantine hadn't forgotten it; he just hadn't given it to her yet. As the cross lay in his palm, warming his hand with its slight heat, he studied it. It was something else, beautiful, and it didn't seem to be dangerous or harmful to Mary if she wore it. Besides, it came from Midnite, and with all his spewing bullshit about the Balance, he wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone.

_And he knows I'd fucking kill him if he did anything to hurt her,_ Constantine thought. He stared at it for a moment longer before dropping it in his pocket, and he began walking home.


	5. Chapter 4

There was a knock, two loud bangs against the front door. Mary blinked drowsily, raising her head up from the kitchen table. _I must have fallen asleep_, she thought idly as she yawned and arched her back, stretching. Then that annoying knocking began again, this time louder. Mary glared at the door before sighing in defeat and getting up to answer it.

"How can I help you," she said as she opened the door. Her green eyes widened. "Wha-what are you doing here?" she asked harshly. The man on the other side of the threshold sighed.

"Mary," he said wearily, "please. Let me in. It's been so long since I've seen you. Please, Mary."

Mary's teeth clenched as she opened the door wider, allowing the older man to enter. She stalked over to her abandoned chair at the table, tucking her feet beneath her as she sat down. The man shut the door, standing before her awkwardly. Mary took in his appearance. He was wearing old, weathered jeans and a white t-shirt. A beat up leather jacket and worn boots completed his ensemble.

"Can I sit down?" he asked, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. Mary nodded shortly, crossing her arms against her chest as he sat on the chair across from her. "Well," he started, "how've you been?"

Mary suddenly became very, very angry. She had been having a fairly good day, until now, that is. She had woken up, made love with her husband, went jogging, and then spent, after a luxurious bath—she had finally convinced Constantine to get a new bathtub, seeing as how his old one was forever ruined—, the remainder of her afternoon working on unfinished songs she had to write. But now, after all this time, her father had decided to show up out of the blue and pretend like _nothing_ had happened.

Mary looked at him with narrowed eyes. "_How have I been_?" she repeated. "Don't pretend like you care. It's been years since I've even seen you, _Dad_. Years, and you never once came for me and you want to know _how I've been_!"

"You left me," he reminded angrily, "not the other way around. Hell, you didn't even have the decency to tell me or even leave a goddamn note of something!"

"Maybe because you didn't care, _Dad_," Mary ground out, her hands clenched into fists. "Admit it, I was just another worry to you; another reason not to go drink and party like you always did."

"Now that's not—"

"Yes it is! It is true! You left me with Brian while you went out and look what happened! He raped me when I was seven and didn't stop until I was fourteen. _And you didn't believe me_."

"I didn't know you were telling the truth! For Christ's sake, Brian's my brother—"

"Yes," Mary said tightly, "and I'm just your daughter." Her father leaned back in his chair, a grim expression on his face.

"Mary," he began, all the anger replaced by weariness. "Mary, I know I screwed up. I know I'm a fuckup dad. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, honey." He let out a shaky breath. "Tell me what to do; I'll do anything, I want you back."

Mary stared at him. "Then maybe you should have tried to look for me when I left. It's been six, seven years and you never tried to find me." He looked at her sadly, and was about to respond when the front door opened, causing both to look away.

"Hey," Constantine said slowly as he shut the door. He looked at the older man seated at his table and then back at Mary questioningly. Mary sighed, folding her arms.

"John," she said, "this is my _father_." It was almost as if she had to force out the word "father". She looked down at her lap.

Constantine, careful to not let any surprise show, studied the man at Mary's left. He looked around sixty or so, his worn out clothing and rugged appearance a contrast to Mary's clean yoga pants and gray tank top. _They have the same eyes_, he noted.

"Aaron," Mary's father said, who, during Constantine's short inspection, had stood up, holding out his hand. Not sensing anything "funny", Constantine grabbed it.

"John," he said curtly. He let go of Aaron's hand and started to remove his coat. "Mary," he said gently. "Are you ok?" She nodded shortly.

Aaron glanced at Constantine with narrowed eyes. "This man living with you, honey?" Mary glared at him.

"He's my husband," she said tensely. A funny look spread over Aaron's face.

"You're married?" he asked, his voice taking on a somewhat gentler tone mixed with disbelief.

"Yes," she said sharply. Mary stood up and moved next to Constantine, wrapping an arm around his waist. Constantine returned the favor by draping his arm over her shoulder, holding her firmly against his side in a manner that clearly stated: if you harm her, you answer to me.

"We were married over a year ago," Mary continued, "and we have plans tonight." _And I want you to leave_, she added silently, but Aaron seemed to understand nonetheless.

"Right," he said, getting up. "It was nice to meet you John."

"Likewise," Constantine said unenthusiastically. Aaron turned his gaze on Mary.

"I want to see you later," he said quietly. "There are things…things you need to know." He looked at her, waiting for any response. She simply nodded. Aaron hesitantly touched her arm in farewell and left, the door shutting quietly behind him.

As soon as she heard the familiar click, Mary moaned and buried her face in Constantine's shoulder as her free arm desperately pulled him closer. Constantine kissed the top of her head.

"Are you alright?" he asked after holding her for a few minutes. He felt her nod against him before lifting her head.

"I'm fine," she sighed, "just…I don't know…drained."

"So, that was your old man?"

"Yeah." Mary pulled away from him, turning to look out a window. "That was him." She wrapped her arms around herself, sighing.

Constantine sat at the table. Popping a piece of gum in his mouth, he asked, "Any reason he stopped by?"

She shook her head. "I don't know," Mary acknowledged, troubled that after so many years without a word from him, her father had just shown up out of the blue. How had he known to find her? More importantly, what did he want? Aaron Draven was a lot of things—alcoholic, drug addict, bum, and he was also very good at getting whatever it was that he wanted. He had a way of manipulating those around him, those he claimed to love and care about, when, really, he just used them for his own selfish needs. It made Mary's stomach churn as she wondered what he could possibly want from her.

"He wants something," she admitted softly. "I just don't know exactly what yet." She sighed, and turned to Constantine, smiling nonchalantly. "No matter; I'll find out in time, I suppose."

Constantine frowned. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked, meaning: do you want me to find out what he's up to? Do you want me to take care of this?

Mary's eyes softened. She moved to stand in front of Constantine, caressing his hair. "No," she smiled, "but thank you." Constantine wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. He rested his chin against her stomach.

"Just say the word," he reminded, "and I'll do whatever you want me to." Mary leaned down and kissed him lightly.

"I know, John. Thank you, but I'll be fine."

(0)

It was late, the street dark and abandoned by human life where she stood. She smiled, turning her head upwards to the building in front of her. She could hear him, smell him, and practically taste him already. He was her utmost desire, her craving. He would be hers soon; it was only a matter of time now.

"Soon, John Constantine," she said into the night, "you'll be mine."

Constantine, four stories above her, paused. He was breathing deeply, trying to keep his body still as he listened closely to his surroundings. There was no doubt he had heard something foreign, something wicked, but, now, all he could hear was his wife's panting and labored breath.

"John," she said her voice slightly whiny. She was underneath him, naked, desperately trying not to move her hips to draw him deeper into her body. "What's wrong?" Constantine shook himself out of his reverie.

"Nothing," he groaned, pushing himself deeper into Mary, causing her to moan loudly. He grabbed her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he pounded relentlessly into her. He knew he would find his release soon, but he was determined to help Mary find hers first.

It wasn't long at all before he felt her first spasm and heard her cry of relief. Encouraged, Constantine pushed harder, pinning Mary to the mattress until he, too, let out a shuddering groan as he lost himself. He had scarcely finished when he heard something strange, a laugh. A soft, seductive ha ha ha that lingered in the air. He froze, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He pushed himself off the bed abruptly, craning his head as he tried to hear whatever, or whoever, that was again.

Constantine was too concentrated that he didn't feel the bed shift as Mary sat close to him, her naked skin pressed against his. "John?" she asked cautiously. "What's going on?"

He shook his head, looking at her. "Sorry," he said honestly. "I thought I heard something." Mary smiled and leaned against him, her breasts pressing against his bicep.

"Oh," she said sounding relieved. "I thought I scared you off or something." Constantine grinned.

"No," he said, "you couldn't even scare me off if you tried." He kissed her deeply. "It's late," he said after he had pulled away. He brushed a stray lock of hair off her face. "Let's go to sleep." They spooned together in the bed, Mary's back to Constantine's chest, and, long after Mary had fallen asleep, her soft breathing filling the room, he lay awake, holding her close, and wondering what it was he had heard.

Outside, she smirked. _Soon_, she reminded herself as she stalked off into the night, _soon_.


	6. Chapter 5

"How did you meet him?"

It was a week after Mary's father had showed up on Mary's and Constantine's doorstep, a long week when everyday Mary nervously dreaded the unavoidable meeting with Aaron. It wasn't long before he called, asking to see her, and, not wanting to have him in her home again, she agreed to meet him at a little café around the corner from where she lived. Even now, sitting with him, she regretted having ever come.

"Mary? Are you listening? How did you meet him?" Aaron repeated. Mary blinked.

"Sorry," she muttered. "John and I met under strange circumstances. This…this, um, guy was after me and John saved me. We got married after that."

"What guy?" Aaron asked. "Was he stalking you or something?"

Mary sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Something like that," she lamented. "Raphael was…odd."

"Raphael? Your mother mentioned someone named Raphael a few times before she, uh," he coughed behind his hand, "left."

Mary felt a twinge of sympathy for her father. He never knew that her mother had actually never left him, at least, not of her own will. Raphael had killed her, making it look like she abandoned her family, even though all she had wanted was to stay with them.

"Yeah," Mary said awkwardly, "well, that's how we met."

"Is he good to you?"

Mary smiled without meaning to. "He's the best thing that has ever happened to me." Aaron nodded, unsure of what to say. He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, lighting one and inhaling. He offered one to his daughter.

"No thanks," she said, watching his mouth blow out smoke.

"So what do you do these days? Got a job?" Aaron asked.

She nodded. "I write songs and sell them to people, mostly to new record label artists and such."

"Oh," her father said. He wondered if that brought in a lot of money, but refrained from asking. "What does John do?"

Mary eyed her father skeptically. "Why are you really here? It's not just a quick catch up. Tell me." Aaron sighed.

"Mary," he began, "you're right…something has come up. I, uh, I went to the doctor the other day. Been having some problems, you know. Anyway, the doc checked me and they took some tests…" he trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

"And?" Mary prompted.

"And, they said I'm dying." Mary stilled. Dying, her father? Mr. I-Can-Drink-And-Party-And-Smoke-And-Such and never get sick or anything? Was this even possible? "It's all the drinking, they said," Aaron continued, "the drinking and the smoking, mostly. My liver is shot to hell and my lungs are black. The doc said…he said I didn't have that much time left, Mary. Lung cancer."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mary asked quietly, staring down at her hands sitting on her lap.

"Because I know I messed up with you," he admitted, "because I want to prove to you that I love you before I, well, meet the Big Guy upstairs." He laughed at his joke, but, realizing Mary wasn't amused, he stopped.

"Just trying to lighten up the mood," he said awkwardly. Mary stared at him.

"So," she said, trying to grasp the situation, "you're here because you're dying and you want to show me that you love me, right?" At Aaron's nod, Mary laughed bitterly. "Funny, Dad, real funny." She stood up, staring down at him coldly. "Don't pretend to be full of good intentions, it's not in you. You're just a pathetic, old man who wasted his life away and now you're paying for it. I don't know what you want, but you sure as hell won't get anything from me."

With that, she flounced off, leaving her father sitting where she left him, not caring if he was telling the truth or not.

(0)

Across town, Constantine was sitting at a bar, casually sipping a drink and not listening to Garret as he was talking. It was dark already, and he wondered how Mary was. He knew she had that meeting with her father earlier that day and he knew she had been worried about it. Oh, she pretended not to be, especially in front of him, but he had since learned how to read her somewhat accurately. He knew she was antsy about what her dad wanted.

Constantine inwardly sighed, his gaze passing over everything and everyone in the room. There were a number of couples, sitting together, nuzzling and kissing, making Constantine long for Mary, but, then again, he always missed her when he was away. Even if it was only for a little while, he couldn't help but anticipate their next meeting. _I guess that's how love is_, Constantine thought, sipping his drink. He also figured it to be just one of those weird side effects from being so lonely for so long—now he had someone when, before, he hadn't.

He felt it as soon as she entered the bar. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, sending chills down his spine. He glanced sharply at Garret, wanting to see if he had felt it as well, but Garret was still chatting away, heedless of Constantine's disinterest.

"Do you have a light?" Her voice was sexy, femininely deep and sultry, the melody of it making his heart pound. It even affected Garret, who had stopped talking. She was undoubtedly something unworldly.

"Yeah," Constantine said, groping his pockets. He pulled out his silver lighter, offering it to the woman. He had quiet smoking for some time now, but he _always_ had his lighter.

The woman lighted her cigarette, took a puff, and handed the lighter back. "Thanks," she breathed, smoke trailing out of her red lips. She sat on the empty barstool next to Constantine. "So, waiting for someone?"

"No," said Constantine, the same time Garret said, "He's married." The woman's eyebrows rose.

"Oh?" she said, her voice implying that she didn't care Constantine was married. "Where is the wife, then?" Constantine gulped the rest of his drink.

"Not here," he answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The woman smiled coyly. She was beautiful; beautiful and seemingly dangerous. She was tall, blonde, and shapely—everything any breathing man found attractive. Her eyes were so dark they looked black, a harsh contrast to the long, white-blonde locks falling straight to her waist.

"What's your name?"

"John." He paused, looking the woman over. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well," she said seductively, "it would be nice if you could maybe walk me home."

"Didn't you just get here?"

"Yes, well," she admitted, "I'm not feeling very well anymore, and I don't want to go by myself. Would you come with me, please?" Her dark eyes called to him, pleaded with him, but the stronger part of Constantine said, clearly and strongly, _no_.

"No," he said aloud. He stood up. "Places to go, people to see; Garret can take you." Garret brightened.

"Yeah, definitely," he agreed. "My car's just outside…"

Constantine left them. There was something off about that woman, he just didn't know what. Garret seemed taken with her, so he could deal with it on his own this time. All Constantine wanted was to go home and check on Mary, see how she was after the thing with her dad. Little did Constantine know that at the precise moment he hailed a random cab, Garret was on his way out with the woman.

"So, what do I call you?" Garret asked, opening his car door for her. The woman smiled.

"Call me Jezebel…"


	7. Author's Note 2

Author's Note

Well, for those of you who bother to read this story, I'm back. Sort of. I have a lot of family crap going on right now (don't worry, I won't bore you with it) so I haven't had that much time to write anything. Also, I had to have this big surgery where I got cut open and had organs removed, so I've been recovering from that, too. Sorry, guys...

Anyway, about continuing my whole Constantine series thing. When I first started writing the first story, I had lots of ideas for other continuations featuring Constantine and Mary and their live together but I don't know anymore. I'm not getting many reviews (and a big thank you to all of those who did review. Thank you very much, it made my day!) and that's not very encouraging. Don't get me wrong, I know reviewing isn't a big deal to some who read all the fan fiction on this site, but to those of us who write the stories, a bit of encouragement is nice sometimes.

I hope I don't sound bitchy (if you guys read authors notes), but please start reviewing if you want me to continue or have anything YOU would like to see in the stories. I'd really appreciate it and, who knows, maybe I'll be more inspired and eager to post more chapters.

Until Next Time...


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